A Gentleman Never Tells(72)

“Gabby,” her aunt said, “I don’t think you’ve moved from my side since you got here. You are not a wallflower, a spinster, or an old woman like me. Now go out in the midst of that crowd and enjoy yourself.”

Gabrielle looked down at her aunt. “I am having a good time watching everyone else dance.”

“Not good enough. Tell me, are you waiting for that handsome viscount to arrive?”

“He told me he’s not coming, Auntie.”

“Why not?” Auntie Bethie rose from the chair to stand beside Gabrielle. “I’ve seen both his brothers here.”

“After what Staunton did at Lady’s Windham’s, Brent thought it best he not attend any parties for a while. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more trouble.”

“Hmm, that means if Staunton wanted a fight, next time he’d oblige him.”

Gabrielle nodded.

“That’s admirable of him.”

“I thought so too,” she answered, but knowing his reasons didn’t keep her from feeling empty inside.

“Look, I see your friend Miss Whitehouse heading this way. Go spend some time with her. How will I ever get a wealthy young bachelor to notice me if you are always around?”

“Auntie!”

Her aunt laughed and turned away as Babs walked up.

“Gabby,” her friend said, giving her a quick hug. “I saw you standing over here when I was on the dance floor.”

“And I saw you, too, dancing with Mr. Iverson Brentwood.”

Delight lit Babs’s eyes, and she smiled. “I did. How did you know which one I was dancing with? I can’t tell the twins apart.”

“I’ll give you a clue about their differences. The one named Iverson has longer hair than his brother.”

“Really? I didn’t notice it was.”

“It’s not obvious. There’s only a slight difference, and it requires a keen eye.”

“I will pay close attention the next time I see the two of them together.”

“All right, come with me to get a drink,” Gabrielle said. “I want to ask you something.”

“I hope you want to know something deliciously scandalous so I can tell you something sinfully naughty,” Babs said as they made their way over to the punch table.

Gabrielle laughed as they threaded a path through the crowd. “No more scandals. I’m through with them, but I do need your help. I’ve done everything I can think of to appear unacceptable as a wife to Lord Brentwood, but he seems completely unaware of all my efforts.”

Babs gave her a quizzical look. “First, I must ask, why do you want to be unacceptable to him? He’s titled, handsome, and dashing.”

“All that and more.”

“That’s what I mean. I’ve heard of making a gentleman want to chase you, but why would you want to chase one away? Why do you want to appear unacceptable to such a worthy catch?”

Gabrielle pulled her bottom lip into her mouth for a moment and then released it. “I’d rather not go into details right now, Babs.”

“All right. I can see this is serious for you, so tell me what you’ve done.”

“I’ve tried the things I knew my father would absolutely hate. I’ve pretended not to know how to dance, insisted he go to church with me, told him I believe in ghosts, and forced him to help me with Brutus.” She stopped and sighed. “There have been other things, too, but nothing has worked.”

They stopped in front of the drink table, and the servant handed each of them a cup of punch.

“Oh, I know something my father positively abhors,” Babs offered. “He says he can’t abide piano recitals, and he told my mother he would never attend another.”

“Oh, yes, my father feels the same way about them. And since he is still gone, and my aunt is here, I can have a recital in my home and invite a few friends and Brent.”

“Brent?” Babs asked in mock horror. “That sounds rather familiar, don’t you think?”

“Yes, well, anyway,” Gabrielle said and cleared her throat. “I know just the pianist to invite. Mr. Michael Murray.”

“Oh, yes, I remember him from last year.” Babs laughed. “He’s so uninspiring; he’ll bore everyone to tears.”

“Hopefully none more than Lord Brentwood,” Gabrielle said excitedly. “Mr. Murray will be perfect. I’ll talk to Auntie Bethie about it right now, and we’ll start planning the recital.”